


Bits of Life

by Rojira



Category: Monaco: What's Yours Is Mine
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Probably a fuckton of multishipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 01:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15329160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rojira/pseuds/Rojira
Summary: A collection of shorts I wrote about the Thieves of Monaco. Potential ships and warning contents at the start of every chapter.





	1. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was unclear who tripped the alarm, all that the Cleaner knew is that he was trapped in an airvent with a wounded Hacker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ships: Very light Cleaner/Hacker. As in, very very slightly implied.  
> Warnings: Gunshot wounds?

It had not been a successful heist, _to say the least_. In the confusion it was hard to say which one of them had triggered the alarm, and no one really thought about it while they scrambled around to escape the guards pouring into the room. A few gunshots resounded into the building, and while the fear of one of them going down tugged at every thief's mind, there just wasn't time to look behind or be a hero; Everyone wanted to survive this.

 

Hiding in vents wasn't specifically the Cleaner's strongest suit – He was tall and large after all- but he managed to squeeze himself in the conduct for this once, and stood there a while to catch a breath. In his headset he could hear the ruckus around the three other criminals, without knowing much which noises belonged to which. The gunshots had stopped, and that in itself was a clear improvement of their respective conditions.

 

As most of the noises started to die down, the sound of someone coming through the airvent grabbed the Cleaner's attention, somewhere to his left. The man raised his chloroform-drenched hankerchief, ready to lunge at the intruder... When the signature green of the Hacker's hoodie peeked at the corner of the conduct. Every muscle in the bald man's body relaxed at once, while the other man dragged himself through the vent, panting.

 

It wasn't until a few moments later that Cleaner realized what was going on, when he met the Hacker's eyes, dilated with fear and pain. Thick, red blood was slowly creeping down his garments as the wound in his shoulder kept leaking. The Hacker's ragged, heavy breath hitched every now and then as he obviously tried to overcome the pain, pressing a palm firmly on the hole, trying to keep it from bleeding even more. Hacker snorted, letting out a bitter laugh, and spoke as he always did, quickly and nervously.

 

“Getingetshotgetout.”

 

As the Cleaner helped his companion tend the wound, the noise outside died down to quiet murmurs. In the headset, he could hear the Lookout asking about their wereabouts, and the Locksmith reporting back. While biting back the pain, the Hacker indicated their position as well.

 

“I have what we need. It's only a matter of getting out now. I don't hear a lot of guards outside so the Locksmith and I will make a run for it. Meet us outside.”

 

“Rogerthat.”

 

Outside, the police could still be heard patrolling. The Cleaner took a small peek out of the vent, grimacing at the view of the swarming agents down in the room, and took a long drag off his cigar, remaining silent, as he always did. Behind him, the Hacker's panicked panting did not stop, even now that the wound was somewhat stabilized. They'd need to get out fast if they didn't want him to die of bloodloss.

 

Without thinking much about it, the Cleaner wrapped an arm around the Hacker's shoulders, bringing him closer to the end of the vent, and slowly gestured towards the door on the opposite side of the room below. With a shudder that was painful to hear, the techno bandit agreed with a nod, still clutching the bleeding wound.

 

It wasn't too surprising that he was the one who got shot. Of all of them, he was probably the less fit for running around. Even the Redhead, who was nothing short of a regular – albeit gorgeous- woman was often caught around the gym, getting in shape. The Gentleman was maybe getting old, but he was still fairly built for a man his age.

 

No, really, the Hacker was the only one of them to be nothing but skin and bones. He was far better at keeping hidden, and when things turned sour he was usually the first one to run away, knowing very well he couldn't hold his ground in a fight. But now, getting shot and hiding in an airvent, with the police was well aware of their presence... That was making him anxious and fidgety – even moreso than usual.

 

As he kept panting, biting the nails of the only hand of his that was not busy keeping him alive, the Cleaner's arm did not leave his shoulder, holding him close as they watched closely for an opening. It started to look like most of the forces were busy somewhere else, and as the Cleaner held a thumb up to signal their departure, he leaned in forward quickly towards his partner in crime, and for a second, the Hacker could've sworn he'd heard a low, husky voice telling him to breathe.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally not prompted by me, a stupid Hacker, getting shot and having to hide in a vent with my Cleaner teammate. Also, did you notice that when characters hide with low health, you can hear them panting? I thought that was a really nice addition to the game.


	2. Poolparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lookout would like to go for a swim, but there is a certain someone in her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Gentleman/Redhead, Lookout/Redhead  
> Content warning: None

There she was, laying down dramatically on the deck chair outside, just by the pool. The Lookout always wondered how she managed to seem to always come out of a movie set. A perfect figure – at least according to society's fucked up standards – with an angel's face and a deep, compelling voice that was like candy for the ears.

 

She was louging in a bikini that seemed, to the Lookout, just a tad too provocative. Not that she was complaining. Not only did the other woman do whatever it was she wanted, but also, well, in all honesty she was quite a view to behold, her fiery red hair running wild, shining in the sun, most of her tanned skin exposed, from the top of her gracile neck down to the end of her incredibly long legs, covered by nothing but the red of her swimsuit and a pair of expensive shades.

 

The Lookout was standing inside, contemplating the idea of jumping in the aformentionned pool to do a few laps. It certainly would relieve her with this heat, and it would also scratch her itch for physical activity, two birds with one stone. Ever since she was a child she had been a pretty sportive kind of girl. Acute hearing, spying eyes and long, muscular legs made for running. Those did come in handy later on in her life, when the soldiers came and took everything from her family, and they kept being useful when she decided the world would pay it all back to her in full. With interests.

 

But now, she was hesitating, eyeing the woman outside. Ever since they'd come to collaborate, she had been sort of tense around the Redhead. Not that she was anything but friendly, chatting eagerly around everyone, incredibly charismatic in her way of doing so. Maybe in the end, said charisma was the reason the Lookout was intimidated in the first place. She'd always been sort of a quiet tomboy, and although she wasn't unhappy with that, the more feminine side of things always arose compicated feelings in her.

 

It wasn't jealousy, it wasn't exactly longing either. It was some sort of curiosity, mixed in with a silent admiration. And perhaps, deep down, buried desire for all those women and their shapes, their hair and their makeup, so gorgeous in their dresses and heels. She had come to terms with this desire long ago, but it hadn't changed a thing. In the life of a bandit, romance was a rare sight, which was also why she was so surprised to see the bond shared by the Redhead and her Gentleman, two lovebirds on a thieving spree that didn't seem to be ready to end. They walked all over the world hand in hand and she couldn't say she'd seen a single crack in their mutual trust so far. Alright now, maybe she was a little jealous. But not of the Redhead. Of the Gentleman.

 

With a frustrated sigh she rose from her seat, removing the tanktop she was wearing and discarding it nearby, unbuttoning jeans to stand in her one-piece swimsuit. Something much more common, that didn't show her abs, that didn't flatter what little shapes she had, but the muscles on her arms. Swimsuits, in her mind, were made to be practical, not for fashion, as were most clothes.

 

The door to the balcony silently slid open as she stepped outside, and the Redhead waved to her as she passed her by without a glance. The Lookout knew that if she looked, she'd stare, and it would be a very awkward interaction, she thought, as she slowly wet her neck as to not drown. Thermal shock would not be pleasant either. Safety rules were sometimes made for good reasons, and if she ignored most of those, she didn't when it came to the water.

 

A pool was nothing compared to the ocean of Haiti, but she enjoyed the swimming nonetheless. The water was cool and refreshing, and the feeling of her muscles working their way into the liquid kept things off her mind. All in all, the Lookout was a very active woman, and she enjoyed most sports, whether it be climbing, running or fighting. But swimming was one of her favourites, so when she learned that they would be staying in a villa with a pool, she agreed to go on a shopping trip with the Redhead and her lover. Of course, the other woman had vandalized the whole store while she was there, buying a ton of clothing with money that she silently stole back in the pockets and bags of the other clients. Even off the job, some habits never died.

 

Her silent, methodical workout was interrupted by a tiny laugh, and she stopped in her tracks, looking up at the woman who was crouching by the pool.

 

“Hey there sugar. You seem to be having fun, mind if I join you?”

 

The smile on the Redhead's face seemed genuine, as her exposed blue eyes glistened with a shard of mischief. The sunglasses had been discarded, apparently.

 

“Sure. If you wanna. Why not.”

 

“Figured you'd want some company, seeing how you were looking at me from inside. You're allowed to come and chat if you feel lonely, you know?”

 

Thankful for the dark of her skin that hid the blush creeping on her cheeks well enough, the Lookout raised an eyebrow.

 

“Looking at things is kind of my job. Old habits die hard.”

 

Something even more playful settled on the Redhead's face as she slid in the water with little regard for safety regulations, now too close for comfort, and she slid a strand of dark hair back behind her vis-a-vis' ear.

 

“Mhh-hm, keep telling that to yourself, Honeydew. I know a pair of longing eyes when I see one.”

 

Her cheerful, sing-song tone was just a tad grating on the ears as the Lookout realized she was being made fun of. With irritation she slapped the hand away from her face, and made her way towards the edge of the pool, redying herself for some more laps in the crystal clear water.

 

“And what about it? Surely I'm not the first woman to look at you that way. It's not like I intend to flirt.”

 

Now, bitterness was sipping in her voice as she returned to her methodical workout, thinking about how bad of an idea it had been to come out. As much as she loved the water, it wasn't worth the humiliating feeling of being caught red-handed staring at a pretty girl. Although her pride wouldn't let her deny it any longer; It was better to face it head on and stand her ground. The Redhead's musical laughter came to her ears again, as she stood right next to the Lookout's path, clearly enjoying herself.

 

“Oh no, ma chérie, you are not. You are not the first girl to be interested in me, and you are not the first girl I am interested in either, worry not.”

 

Trying to make head and tails of the words she just heard, the Lookout came to a stop once she reached the other side of the pool, and took a few moments to think about her answer. Behind her the sounds of moving water came closer and closer until the Redhead's slender, manicured hand touched her shoulder.

 

“Now, don't tell me you didn't see it coming. I've tried to flirt with you countless times since we've met, little darling. The boys are dears, but they've got nothing on that pretty face.”

 

The haitian girl slowly turned around, a frown on her face, but the Redhead did not step away, her hand still resting on her shoulder, sliding down her arm. The touch was electric, sending shivers down the Lookout's spine. It wasn't exactly the first time she'd been somewhat intimate with another woman. There had been a few girlfriends in her life, but they were fleeting adventures, and never... Never that attractive. That mysterious. That ready for the risks of their lifestyle.

 

“Aren't you supposed to have a man? I don't do... I don't... I don't collaborate in cheating.”

 

The other woman smiled to her, something playful but gentle as she slowly leaned in towards the Lookout, her hand ending it's course on the crook of her waist. It was hard to keep her eyes focused in those blue irises when drops of water kept running down the Redhead's cleavage, hiding under her bikini top.

But as the probably older woman got closer, the Lookout could start to see, in her eyes, something exhilarating, something wild and untamed, fierce and powerful. Something so, oh, so attractive.

 

“Oh, Honeydew... I really gotta teach you about the wonderful concept of polyamory.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so. This chapter deals way more heavily with headcanon territory. Whereas it be skin-tones or eye colours, I try to keep it concording with the canon, AKA the Lookout being Haitian.  
> I gave the RedHead blue eyes because not only does it look gorgeous with red hair (as well as being the most rare genetical combination) she used to be a blonde, and well, can't pass up the blue eyed blonde cliché. 
> 
> PS: Can't fool me, the Lookout is a huge lesbian and the RedHead is a polyamorous bisexual woman. Sorry, I make the rules.


	3. Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Redhead and the Gentleman are louging at a party, but things are getting quite boring for the woman, so she leaves to have some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ships: Redhead/Gentleman  
> Warnings: A few sexual undertones, the usual thieving.

It was a pretty posh party, the kind she liked the most and hated the most at the same time. The redheaded woman liked them for the money and jewels at display everywhere and how easy it was to rake up some easy cash on unsuspecting morons. But she hated the lack of diversity, the men and their suits looked all the same and the women crunched their faces at her when she passed by, only increasing the wrickles they desperately tried to hide. She liked the attention, but hated the judgement that was bound to be passed around in such an environment. All those people looked neat and clean but most of them woudln't hesitate to tear at each other's throats if left unattended for a while.

Of course, there were exceptions. There always were.

Often she could feel the gaze of the crowd upon her and her man when they walked in arm in arm, judging the very nature of their relationship without understanding a single thing about it. They all assumed he was in for the sex, and that she was in for the money, and if there was a bit of truth in that – they had amazing sex and amazing fortunes after all – there was also a lot of wrongful assumptions.

 

The Redhead was leaning against him, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The cushionned couch, blood red, that they were sitting on was amazingly comfortable, almost as much as the warm side she was pressed against, and almost as soft as the shoulder her head was resting on. The glass of white wine in her hand was already half empty as she twirled it mindlessly, glancing around at the guests surrounding.

 

There were two other men at their table, sharply dressed – but not as sharply as the Gentleman – smoking cigars, drinking what they liked to call “men's alcohol” as they passionately discussed property values with a semi-bored Gentleman. Of course, they couldn't see that he was bored. He was a manipulation master, so very good at hiding his true emotions. But she knew. She'd been around long enough to read him like an open book. It was the thing about each other that had them falling in love; Despite being both amongst the best liars to walk this forsaken earth they could see right through the other and still like what they saw. Oh yes, she always liked what she saw in her Gentleman. 

 

One of the strangers was lusting after her. Well, the other was too, but he was way less obvious about it. She could feel the Gentleman's finger tapping slowly on her shoulder in a rythmic motion and it was the giveaway that he noticed, too, and wasn't so pleased about it. There was no jealousy between them, as they were both free spirits with fleeting desires, and they had some fun once in a while with someone else, that wasn't a problem. Whoever else they were seeing, even if it was for months at a time, they'd always fall back into each other's arms without missing a beat.

 

No, what had the Gentleman's patience trickling away was the _gross_ twinkle in the lean man's eye. A young one, cocky at that, lean with a proeminent adam's apple. All lying smirks and twitches of the left eye. She didn't like him one bit, especially with the way his eyes fell in her cleavage every other second. The Redhair knew exactly what was going on in his head and it made the little appetite she had vanish in the air. She knew exactly how he was picturing her, his dreams of domination that could never, would never, ever happen. She was mostly on the dominant side, anyways. Especially with cocky men, but this kind of little shit she'd never touch. It'd be giving them too much.  


 

After a little while, when she got tired of the eyes on her and of the boring chatting, she downed her glass of wine, and promptly got up, startling both Adam's Apple and his friend, but earning only a soft gaze from the Gentleman. 

 

“Ah, are you leaving us already my love?”

“Just going for a walk, _chaton_. There's many people to see around here, and I'm starting to get so very bored. I think it's time I have a little fun!” 

 

Her man gave a sharp nod while she waved at them, and after a few more sweet words she was left roaming on her own. She actually stopped briefly next to a potted plant for a minute or so, eyes wandering around, suddenly inhabited by a furious fire. Of course the Gentleman knew exactly what she was up to. Usually when the Redhead got bored she liked to stick her fingers in places she shouldn't – And that could mean two very different things. Today, it would be purses.  


 

A quick trip to the ladies' room had her lock down her first target, a middle-aged woman in heels that were way too high for her. She was doing her best to hide the limping, but nothing escaped the Redhead's glare, she could guess from miles away that this one was suffering from a severe case of heel shafing. Probably that she was self-conscious of her short legs. It was true, they did not look that great, but she made up for them with nice looking hips and a sharp, unforgiving jaw. Hadn't she been a hardened criminal, she'd almost felt compassion. 

 

But no, the poor madame's chafing adventures didn't stop the Redhead from bumping into her roughly, and from catching her by those pretty hips to prevent a fall.

 

“Oh my, I am so, so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

 

The two women locked eyes for an instant, and the thief internally snickered as she watched an incipient frown quickly vanish. Sharp Jaw – That was now this lady's codename – blinked a few times, confused, and then smiled softly.

 

“No... no, it's alright. It was my fault anyways, I should've paid more attention.”   


 

It was a lie, an obvious one. Her left foot must've hurt horribly. There was no compassion in the Redhead's mind as she let the woman go and wished her a good evening. Without even turning around, she felt Sharp Jaw double take, glancing at her figure from afar one last time before running off to her boring, high-heels-filled life. 

 

The Ex-Blonde smiled, looking at herself in the mirror. Touched her hair a bit, put on some lipstick, fixed her mascara. Around the clear blue of her eyes, a thin dark liner, a plum coloured eyeshadow enhanced the almond shape. She really was a pro at smokey eyes now, wasn't she. With a last satisfied glance, she quickly counted the bills in her hands before sliding them in her bra, which she pushed up a little bit. Five hundred. Not bad. 

 

There were a few more after that. She propped her hands on the edge of the pool table, knowing such a position squished her breasts together, batting eyes at one of the players, playfully asking a few questions. Pool-Guy didn't have anything very interesting to say, except that part where he mentionned having a dog. The Redhead would've loved knowing more about that, but it wouldn't be the kind of question that got her closer to stealing anything. It was a shame though, as she always loved labradors. She raked up three hundred and a watch from that one.

 

Then, there was the waitress, young and naive. And definitely not a heterosexual, even if she maybe hadn't found out yet. She could tell by the way her eyes trailed on her face, eyelashes fluttering, almost innocently. The slight blush of her cheeks and the awkward smile tugging at her lips whenever the thief talked to her. The Redhead stole some cash from this one under the pretense of helping clean up the mess from their commotion. After that, she struck a little conversation in the kitchen while the poor girl washed down a few glasses – Who the hell stuck their cigarette butts in the champagne glass? Disgusting. - in hopes of stealing a pair of earrings, but came out empty-handed. Little girl was trying to pay for her studies and miraculously got hired for a job that was clearly higher-class than she'd ever be. 

She left the earrings on the ears they belonged to this time around, but just because the top of that waitress' button nose looked very kissable. 

 

She next stole the necklace and ring from that old hag in the poker corner. She was so cold and off-putting, the Redhead even took the time to put some salt in her drink. Then, there was the security guy, who almost caught her snooping into a drawer until she pretended being drunk and lasciviously pressed herself against his chest. If he didn't seem impressed by the smooth seduction tactics, he did escort her outside on the balcony to take a breather. 

 

On her way she stole a few more things – Nothing worth much, but things she wanted. Some lipstick in a purse. An old brooch that looked like it'd go well with one of her dresses. Some kind of shiny locket that somehow looked like it was very ancient. She liked that one. There was a picture of a couple inside, and she was going to replace it.

 

Finally her solo-heist came to a halt when the security guy sat her down on a chair on the balcony and left off with a last advice. "Be reasonable, Miss, do not drink too much." She smiled with the white of her teeth, waved him goodbye and took a peek at the contents of his wallet. Maybe there would be something to do out of this credit card before the access to it was restricted. 

 

The night sky was dark and clear, letting the crescent moon shine down on the people below. Of course, the lights of Monaco were strong enough to cast a clear aura in the sky, each of them looking like a little star of it's own. She'd always loved gazing at the big cities from up the buildings, watching their lights flicker, turn on, turn off. Despite the belated hour, people were still awake, the city was still buzzing. Up from the fourteenth's story she could hear some cars honking in the distance, and the soft humming of the engines all the way down below, the faint murmur of conversations spoken in the dark.  


As she mused over the evening a hand slowly slid around her waist, and she did not jump, for she had heard the Gentleman's footsteps. She simply leaned in his touch as she always did, closing her eyes and letting out a content sigh.

 

“Did you let those hands run where you wanted them to for the evening, my love?”

“Ah, yes I did. Around a thousand in cash. More with the jewlery.” 

“My, my, you are going to ruin this city!”

 

The Gentleman was laughing in a singularly soft way, and she gently roughed up his hair. 

 

“ _We_ are going to ruin this city, honey. It would be no fun without you, right?”

 

His deep, dark eyes were always a special kind of soft when he looked at her. His works silken, his touch calming. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards and he leaned in for a tender kiss that left her lips swollen and her belly full with a tug of longing. Brushing off her fiery hair with his slender fingers he let his forehead rest against hers, the laugh lines creasing around his eyes as he gazed up at the woman who had been sharing his life, both official and private, for several years already.

His voice was loving, but his words so adoring.

 

“You are right, Gloria. It would be _no fun_ without you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! I felt like writing more about the Redhead. I feel like she'd be a very perceptive woman, and at least as much of a mastermind as the Gentleman.
> 
> I also wanted to show something tender in their relationship, because it's one that I strongly believe to be based on trust and love.
> 
> Also... Big headcannon dropping, already? You bet.


End file.
